


Spin Cycle

by roundandtalented



Series: i have a problem and that problem is domestic erisol [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Established Relationship, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Humanstuck, Laundry, M/M, fine. i'll keep that as a tag since its relevant., why is just Laundry a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 15:12:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roundandtalented/pseuds/roundandtalented
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He swears it’s your turn to do laundry and you swear that's it’s actually his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spin Cycle

**Author's Note:**

> Mildly inspired by a line in [this song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NgCzmgHXsPI).

He swears it’s your turn to do laundry and you swear that's it’s actually his. Sollux has a shitty memory at the best of times for anything that doesn't involve a computer so you figure it really is his turn and he's just not in the mood to do it.  
But there's two full baskets anyways, so you end up roping him into at least helping carry it down to the laundry room in the basement of the apartment building. He whines, groans, protests that he's in the middle of a match, tries to convince you that you don't need help, but eventually you get him to put on an undershirt and step away from his laptop.  


"Do you even have any clean sweaters left? It’s not even that cold but your tits could cut diamond."  
He smacks your ass instead of speaking and reaches for one of yours in the basket you're holding.  
"Oh no you don't, you already smeared your slimey fuckin' deodorant all over the armpits a that one when ya borrowed it on Tuesday." You dodge him, stepping towards the doorway.

"M'cold though."  
"Yeah, s'why we're doing laundry; so you have somethin' clean to put on. Grab your work shirt."  
He does, and drags his feet the whole way to the front door where you left his basket of clothes to wait for him. Sollux grumbles something as he shoves his feet into a pair of your slippers, but he's first into the hallway. He holds the door for you and the two of you head for the elevator, him in his pajama pants, undershirt and your slippers, you in a pair of khaki capris, slip on sandals, mismatched socks and an old Pink Floyd t shirt that you really can't remember if it belongs to either of you. It’s probably his, they had some techno-like shit at one time didn't they? You're pretty sure they might have.  
The sad part is it’s nearly December and this is how you two are leaving the apartment. As fashion nightmares and totally under dressed for how cold the hallways are.  


You're both covered in goose bumps and shivering by the time the elevator hits the basement. It’s at least a little warmer on the bottom level because of the furnace, but you can still see Sollux's nipples through his shirt and _why is that so fucking funny_? He tries to push you into the wall as you walk because he knows that's what you're snickering about.  


The laundry room is a pretty dismal place for being in such an expensive, uppity apartment complex. There's four washers and four driers that all look to be about the same age as you, folding tables and lockers in the center of the room, and a few ratty looking chairs off to the side that look like they belong in a doctor’s office. They probably did. One of the doctors in the building may very well have snagged them and stuck them down here but whatever. It’s better than sitting on the floor or the table or on top of one of the cold metal machines.  
You fetch the keys from your pocket and nab the detergent from your locker while Sollux dumps his basket into a machine. The idiot doesn't sort his colours or his whites or do anything really. You've told him a million times it makes all his white socks grey but he always shrugs anyways so you don't bother tonight. You just hand him the jug and fill all the other washing machines yourself when you sort your own basket.  


"You had to take up all three washers, didn't you?" He makes a displeased face at you, like you're being terribly rude or something.  
"It's nearly midnight, Sol."  
"We're not the only people in the building still awake though." He hops up onto his washing machine and slides the jug over to you.  
"It’s fine. I doubt anyone else is even going to come in." You feel his eyes on you as you put the jug back into the locker but leave the metal door open. You have a feeling you'll be staying down here while your laundry goes. A peek over your shoulder back to your boyfriend confirms that. He's got that smirk on his face. The specific one that means he's going to be trouble. He's going to _make_ trouble. For you, specifically.  


He flicks his chin at the door to the room. The only door into the room. It’s got a fogged glass window that resembles office doors in high school that you always dreaded looking at but you get his meaning. He wants it closed. Closed and locked.  
You look at it, back at him, and he tilts his chin again. Oh, you know what he wants. But that doesn't mean you're not going to make him ask for it nicely.  


"What's up?"  
"Nnnnnn." He kicks his feet over the edge of the washing machine, lips pursed together in a line and eyes narrowed.  
"What?"  
"Door."  
"Yeah that sure is a door."  
"Close it, dickwad."  
"Why on earth would I do that?"  


He kicks his feet harder and you have to hold back a laugh because wow, why is that even cute. And he has the nerve to call _you_ a brat.  


"Close it and then come over here and kiss me."  
"Ohhhh so that's what you want? Bein' awful shy for just a kiss Sol."  
"Oh come on! Fucking close the door and get over here." He's literally about to hop off the washer when you finally stroll over to the door. You take a peek into the hallway, look both ways to make sure it’s clear, and then swing the door closed. You grab a doctor’s office chair from the wall and hook it under the door knob so that the door won't open just in case.  


Once you get back to him you slip between his legs. You're taller than him by a couple inches, but with his washing machine boost you're roughly the same height. He's got short, skinny little legs and that's always been funny to you.  
Sollux catches you grinning, but doesn't say anything. He just loops his arms around your neck and pulls you in for a kiss. Short, chaste, and then he pulls back to look at you. Then back in for two more little kisses. It’s a game he plays. More of a routine. He gives you Eskimo kisses and taunts you with pecks at the corners of your mouth until you break and dive in yourself. You hold him for long, drawn out ones, lick his bottom lip, slip your tongue inside to touch his own as gently as you can. His hands end up in your hair every time, attached to you and he motions for more.  
You always comply. Sucking on his tongue always turns him on, though. So you wait for him to start shifting his hips, adjusting himself without hands, before you do that. He melts almost instantly. His hold becomes a desperate cling.  


Sollux has nearly moved himself off the washing machine when you let him free. His hair is mussed up where you've run your hands through it, thin tank top up higher than his belly button, and he's a bit pink in the cheeks. Perfect. He welcomes you back when you lean in to grind your clothed hips into his parted legs. He hardly startles when the spin cycle starts below him.  


It’s not long after that he goes for the fly of your khakis. They're keeping him from what he wants, and he struggles a bit in his haste to get them out of the way. They eventually hit the floor and you hurry back to him, grinding against him again because it feels amazing and he makes the best faces when you do it.  
He stops though, eyes fluttering open and then he snickers.  


"Purple briefs. Are you serious right now."  
"Hey shut up! They're cute!" You pout at him because you know he not-so-secretly finds it adorable.  
"Purple though."  
"I'm out of boxers. It was purple briefs or I start dipping into the panties."  
"NO. Those are for _special occasions_ only." His voice is this harsh, upset whisper.  
"Exactly. See, you understand."  
"Purple though." His hand is at the front of them regardless, cupping you, palming you until you let your forehead drop onto his shoulder. He bites his lip, stills his hand, and moves his hips at you.  
You suppose you should probably help him out.  


You unbutton his pajama pants but leave them on him. He wouldn't like his bare ass on the cold washing machine anyways. He lets out whatever breath he was holding the moment you take hold of him, warm and hard in your hand. Sollux is quick to kiss you then, sliding your briefs down as best he can without stopping his attentions on your dick.  


"Probably should have brought lube down." He whispers into your ear and you chuckle.  
"Nah. Don't need it. We haven't done this in a while." You press your foreheads together for a moment and pull him close to you with your free hand once you feel your underwear fall to your ankles.  


Sollux makes like he's going to reply to you, but you swipe away the precome on him with the pad of your thumb and he goes quiet again. Kisses you and smoothes his hands down your chest until he gets to where you want him again.  
His legs wrap right around your hips, boney ankles crisscrossed halfway down the backs of your thighs as he pants into your neck. Even though you made it awful difficult for the two of you to be interrupted, you know he's getting off on the fact that anyone could come down here. He thinks someone will. You know he does. He wouldn't have put up such a fuss otherwise.  


You keep him pushed right against you with one hand, and jerk him off with the other. Nip at his ears like he loves, and he skims his teeth across the side of your neck. He knows you too well.  
You're the one making all the noise. You're the one who'll get you two caught, if anything. You'd like to put the blame on him though. He's just so good with his hands.  
Sollux knows just how tight to keep his grip, to stop every now and then so you can whine at him for more and have him trail his fingers along the underside of your dick instead. Such a fucking tease but you love it. You love him so much. You've loved him for so long it shouldn't be a surprise that he knows you so well. Your mind, your body, everything.

It’s a little dry maybe, but both of you have soft hands. You're not really the outdoorsy type. Outdoors doesn't have a computer, and the two of you combined are likely allergic to every weed in existence. And as romantic as a camping trip, just the two of you, sounds, no. Why would you fuck him in a tent when you can have him like this. On top of a running washing machine.  


You meet his half lidded eyes and you know he's caught on that you're at the 'spacey' point. He's feeling pretty good too, judging by the half managed grin. It’s more of a loose, partly open mouthed smile that's a little lopsided. It's fucking adorable.  
You press your mouth to his again, letting his tongue slip between your lips because you'll do the same in a few minutes. But then he stops your hand, puts the two of you together and slides your bottom lip between his teeth all at the same time. You make a soft of pleading noise when his thin fingers wrap back around you and pick up where he left off. He's aiming to take care of you first, you know that, and you're not having it.  


You put your hand over his, a little smaller, a little more bedazzled, and change the pace so it works for both of you, but moreso him. You only know because he starts getting a sort of tone to his breaths. Not quite a moan, but a little more than a regular pant. You kiss him again, push your tongue against his and he moans into your mouth. You echo it when he let's go to shift his hand to a better position.  
His arm is probably cramping, so you move to take over. Both of Sollux's hands grab your one, carefully pluck the rings from your fingers and then guide you back. Okay. Yeah. Good idea.  


He starts rocking his hips into his hand not long after. You can sort of feel the vibrations of the washing machine through him, since you've got your hand on his lower back and you offhandedly wonder if that's working for him. It was making your knees numb a few minutes ago and you had to stand a little oddly to avoid touching the front of it.  


"Oh god-" His voice is soft in your ear, breathless as he draws you back to him.  
"Eridan, I...nnn." _Oh. Well then._ You don't think your cheeks can get much brighter than he's already made them, but there's motion in the hallway and _oh fuck there's someone at the door! Shit, fuck-_  


You're about to pull away from him but he shooshes you, watching the door over your shoulder.  
The chair you wedged under the door handle holds it and whoever wants in can't open it at all. Sollux's hand covers your own, thumb running across the head of your dick and you're reminded you were in the middle of something rather important. The door handle jiggles and you start back up, watching your boyfriend chew his lip to keep quiet.  
The person finally leaves the door, having given up and probably gone to find someone who can open it. Immediately you're putting your everything into finishing the two of you because you do _not_ want to be around when they come back.  


It doesn't take much more for him to be clutching at your shoulders, panting your name into your ear. He shudders and spills over in your hand. You follow only second after because holy fuck is that hot. You kiss him sloppily and stroke the two of you a few more time for good measure, until he whines at you to stop because he's _over sensitive and tired and gross now_. You agree, you're all of those things too. 

"Mm'was good though." He hums against your cheek. You nod, a bit of a chuckle escaping your throat. He kisses you a little softer after that.

The moment the two of you finally catch your breath, Sollux's machine’s buzzer goes off and you stumble backwards. Except your capris and briefs are wrapped around your ankles so you end up on your ass on the tile floor, both of you laughing and you with a bruised tail bone. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you spot any mistakes, let me know. Thanks~!


End file.
